


Confounded

by Talyesin



Series: Aftermath on Finite Earths [22]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 06:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15455673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talyesin/pseuds/Talyesin





	Confounded

Earth Four  
Hub City

Blue Beetle’s massive flying vehicle affectionately nicknamed the Bug exited stealth mode in the dimly lit alleyway between two long storage warehouses. Corrugated garage doors lined either side of the alleyway, garbage cluttering the door stoops. The storage company was one of the countless subsidiaries of Kord Industries, bought years ago through a series of dummy companies, at the Question’s suggestion.

Though there wasn’t anyone around - a quick but thorough scan using the Bug’s detection instrumentation had made sure of that - Nightshade waved her hand toward the sole streetlamp flickering fitfully several storage containers away, and suddenly they were plunged into darkness.

“Why are we here again?” Blue Beetle asked, raising a hand to his goggles, switching to low-light vision.

“There’s something I need in a container here,” the Question answered. 

Beetle was so surprised at getting a direct response to his query that he turned to face his faceless teammate. “So you said, but what, exactly?”

The Question’s reply was to point to one of the storage containers. Suppressing a sigh, Beetle piloted the Bug toward the container and landed softly next to it.

The Bug’s door gantry lowered and the trio stepped out into the darkness of the alleyway. The odour of the accumulated garbage assaulted them immediately.

“What a wonderful new smell you’ve discovered,” Beetle complained.

“I don’t care what you smell, get down there,” Nightshade quipped back. Months of dating Ted had given her an appreciation of the finer aspects of geek culture.

“Are you two done?” the Question asked, moving past them and heading over to one of the corrugated garage doors. There were several padlocks and combination locks, enough to discourage all but the most determined of burglars. To make matters worse, the corpse of a dog, its skull shattered and brains splattered, lay not quite completely hidden beneath a pile of garbage.

“Oh god,” Nightshade said, turning away in distaste.

Beetle covered his nose and mouth with one hand. “Jeez, you could have warned us, Question.”

The Question bent and retrieved a set of keys from the mouth of the dog’s corpse, much to his teammate’s disgust. “Would it have changed anything?”

“You keep the keys there? What happens if they pick up the garbage?”

“I change the locks and find another dog.”

Nightshade’s pale face paled even further in horror. “You can’t mean you-“

Without facing her, the Question turned to the locks on the door. “What ends would you go to, to protect your very soul?”

“Your soul? Question, talk sense,” Beetle said angrily. The Question had never been the most forthcoming of their teammates, and since the attempted assassination on Vic Sage, he’d become even more peculiar, but this was the first time Beetle was concerned for the Question’s sanity.

Instead of answering, the Question began to unlock – and re-lock – the padlocks and combination locks. After a few seconds, Beetle realized there was a sequence to the unlocking-locking.

“They’re not all locked, are they?” he asked, fascinated despite himself. “And to keep from having to remember which is which, there’s a sequence, and at the end of the sequence, they’re all unlocked?”

“Very good, Kord, now let me concentrate,” the Question answered, not pausing in the sequence.

Three minutes of near-silence followed, as Nightshade and Blue Beetle watched the Question lock and unlock locks. When he was finally done, all the locks appeared the same, but the clasps came loose from the wall. He bent and lifted open the garage door, which rattled incredibly loud in the dark alley. The Question stepped into the darkened garage and lit a small penlight, passing it over piles and piles of storage boxes. The sudden light seemed to cast more shadows than illumination, making the dark interior even darker by stark comparison.

“What are we looking for?” Nightshade asked, floating into the dark.

“You can’t help,” the Question answered, opening a box, seemingly at random.

“Why not?”

He pulled out a small journal and tossed it to her. “Can you read Tibetan?”

Nightshade opened the journal and saw that every page was filled with tiny scrawling characters. 

The Question tossed her another journal. “Or Hebrew?” Another. “How about Russian?”

“Every journal in a different language?” Blue Beetle asked. “Yours?”

“I don’t understand,” Nightshade said, handing the three journals back to the Question. “You can’t speak all these languages.”

“No, I can’t,” the Question admitted. “And these characters are merely the alphabets of the languages, not written in those languages themselves. As a precaution, the first sentence of each journal is the mnemonic to recall the alphabetic equivalencies that I’ve implanted in my subconscious through post-hypnotic suggestion. Of course, I have to decipher that first sentence.”

“Then how the hell will you know which journal you’re looking for?!” Blue Beetle hissed angrily, his frustration overwhelming his sense of secrecy.

“Calm yourself, Kord, I know what I’m looking for.”

“You know, you’re the only person I know who doesn’t even trust themselves,” Nightshade said.

The Question had no answer for that, merely continuing to dig through boxes until, after some minutes, he pulled out a somewhat larger, definitely thicker journal. “We can go now.”

“How will this help us find Captain Atom?” Nightshade asked as the Question began resetting his locks, reversing the sequence he’d used to unlock them.

A sudden clatter behind them made them turn, ready for action: Nightshade flew up a few feet, to gain an aerial advantage; Blue Beetle had his strobe-effect gun out of its holster so fast he had time to actually be impressed with himself; the Question took up a position the Judomaster had shown him, ready for anything.

All three relaxed visibly when they realized it was just a homeless old man, balding and white-goateed, bundled up in an old overcoat, stumbling through the garbage. “You… you… Change…” the old man muttered, staggering toward them.

“Sorry old timer,” Beetle said. “These outfits don’t have change pockets.”

“Change… it’s all change… all changing… I know you!” the old man clutched at Beetle. “I know you!”

“Sure you do, old timer,” Beetle said, trying to extricate himself. Suddenly, the old man collapsed, and Beetle caught him.

“What happened?” the Question asked, helping Beetle lower the old man to the ground.

“I don’t know, he just passed out,” Beetle answered.

“Eden, give us some light,” the Question said. Nightshade bristled slightly at being ordered, but waved her hand at the distant streetlamp, illuminating the alleyway.

“He was saying he knew me,” Beetle said, recognition dawning.

At their feet lay Uncle Sam.


End file.
